


turn down these voices inside my head

by Peter_Robin



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Robin: Son of Batman (Comics), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Bullying, Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual Underage Sex, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Transphobia, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Damian Wayne, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Underage Drinking, thoughts of self harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-01-14 13:45:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18477445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peter_Robin/pseuds/Peter_Robin
Summary: "No," she stammered. "I can't, it's wrong, it can't be me, please no, please, anything but this, anything but this," she repeated over and over like a mantra. How could she be this way? How could she be so sick and twisted and disgusting? This couldn't work, she had to do something about this. What would her family think if they knew she was this way?





	1. Grace is just weakness

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This story is going to be kind of sad but will have some good stuff at the end. It will include homophobic and transphobic language so please be careful if that sort of thing makes you uncomfortable. There may be some self-injurious behavior later in this story, and possibly some suicidal thinking and actions, but I'm not sure yet. If I do choose to include that, I will put a warning before the chapter in the notes, so please be warned that if you see that warning that there will be some sensitive content.

# Turn Down These Voices Inside My Head

# 

##  Grace is just weakness 

Talia al Ghul walked over to the cradle where her baby girl lay and watched her with a smile. The baby had dark hair and green eyes, just like her father. She remembered how this baby came to be. A drugged night of passion with the Batman, Bruce Wayne. This would make her baby even stronger than herself. Her father, Ra's, was furious that she had birthed a girl and not a boy, but knew that it would only take more training to be where he wanted her to be. He needed an heir to the throne, someone to take over the League after his death. So, he vowed he would train her to be more strong and dangerous than even he was. Talia had some concern for her baby, but knew that there was nothing she could do. This is how things how are, she thought. "One day," she said, "you will meet your father. Then, you will know who you truly are. You will realize your full potential. But do not forget where your loyalties lie, my dear, they are with me. I will keep you safe, dearest, until it is your time to reign." She named her Dama, for self control and discipline would be her best qualities, Talia decided. She would be the best of them all. She would lead the League to greatness and be their saving grace. Her life was planned out for her before she could even speak.

 

As the years go by, Dama grows to be strong and powerful, just like her mother. Her childhood is full of tests and training, a never ending cycle of practicing and assessing and practicing the next thing. Dama always had to be better than she was the previous day. She had to improve quickly or else. She knew what would happen if she fell behind. She had learned that lesson before, and had the scars on her back to show it. The bite of the whip on her back drawing fresh blood would never leave her memory, and served as a reminder of her expectations. She was trained harder than any other children around her, and even harder still because she was a girl. Her mother made sure that she was the best. Talia would often read Dama tales of war and strategy. Every moment was spent training. And she knew what it was for. She was the heir to the Demons Head. She would take over the League and lead the world to it's natural order, no matter what it took. There was little time for fun or enjoyment in her life. Needless to say, she didn't have the best childhood. Dama had to be the best and nothing less than that would be tolerated. 

 

One day Damas skills were being assessed, and she failed to meet the standards of her teachers. After her brutal punishment, she sought out one of her favorite caretakers. She cried into her arms from the pain and shame from her shortcomings. Talia walked into the room, seeking her daughter, and found the two sitting together. She frowned, knowing that her father would not approve of such a weakness in his heir. She also knew that Dama would be better for this, no matter how painful it would be at the time. Sympathies had no place in the League. You musn't let people get too close to you. You could lose them at any moment and grieving was not allowed for very long, if at all. You might have to kill them, and there is no room for disobeying. Dama had to learn this lesson. She could not seek comfort, she must accept her punishment and better herself. 

Later in the day she had her sword-fighting lessons. Her grandfather, Ra's, observed her training. Talia walked into the room and walked straight to him, not glancing at her child. She whispered in his ear, telling him what she had seen. He sighed disapointedly, and waved a guard over and gave them the instruction to bring the woman. While Dama was training, her caretaker was brought out in front of her. She was confused as to why her caretaker was there, she was not usually involved in her training. She looked to her mother for an answer, but Talia avoided her daughters eyes. So, she looked to her grandfather. "Kill her," Ra's ordered. Dama refused vehemently, shaking her head in confusion. She did not see the reason for such a cold blooded killing. When Ra's face did not waver, she knew that there was no way out of this. But, this was not the way she was taught. She had learned that killing was always for a good reason, reserved for people who were bad or who had wronged you. Her caretaker had done nothing wrong. So, even though she knew she shouldn't and would probably be punished, she argued. 

"Grandfather, please, I do not understand. Why do you order me to do such a thing?" She asked through soft sobs. Ra's face instantly donned a fiercely angry expression as she strode quickly over to Dama. He towered over her and she flinched away from his gaze, fearing his wrath.

"You foolish girl, you are weak! You have sympathies for this woman, but she is of no importance. You will follow my orders. Now, kill her!" He yelled this, stepping back a few paces to give her room. Dama was shaking. She didn't understand, she was too young to understand why this was happening, and all she knew was that she didn't want to get hurt again. She had to kill her. Dama picked up her sword and placed it at the sobbing womans throat. Her eyes pleaded with Damas to stop. She was so afraid, but knew that Dama had no choice. Dama shut her eyes and turned her face away. Disbelief flowing through her brain, she painfully looked back to her caretaker. She gave a tearful smile, whispered her deepest apologies, and thrust her sword through the womans throat. As the life drained from the womans eyes and blood drained from her neck, she stood over her and watched as she choked on her own blood. Damas hand was over her mouth with tears still coming, and she felt a presence come up behind her. A cold hand fell onto her shoulder, and in her ear a voice she knew far too well whispered, "This will get easier, young one." And the worst part is that he was right. Dama soon was able to kill without even blinking. A part of her hated herself and thought she was a monster, but over the years that voice slowly grew quieter and quieter. She was only 7 years old.


	2. hello my old heart, are you still there inside my chest?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh how she wished she could express her feelings about this situation. She was feeling so many things and showed none of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I finally am getting around to writing this. I didn't think I would so I deleted my drafts so this is whole new stuff. Hope you guys enjoy! Leave kudos and I'll write more!

# Turn Down These Voices Inside My Head

# 

##  Hello my old heart, are you still there inside my chest? 

 

Talia knew it was time, but wasn't quite so ready for it to happen. Dama had to meet her father. She had gotten to the age where she was asking about him and while she dared not to ask, Talia knew she wanted to meet him. He was her father, and she had never known him for her entire life. Bruce would make her a better fighter, and would teach her some things that Talia couldn't. When Dama was ready and perfected, she would come back and assume her place at the throne. Talia was confident in her child's loyalties and knew that she would never waver from her mothers side, no matter what her father had to say about their methods. 

Dama had been told to pack all of her things and get ready to meet the man she had heard about, and she was feeling conflicted. On one hand she was glad and excited to meet her father, but she didn't want to leave her mother. She didn't have a choice, she knew, but she wished it were up to her.

When Talia made the call to Bruce to meet her in Gotham, he was surprised to hear her voice. She had not spoken to him for a long time and he worries about what it was that she wanted. He didn't know what to say when he came to meet Talia and by her side was a young child.

"She's yours. Her name is Dama." Talia said, meeting his eyes in an almost challenge. He looked at the child in shock, face almost contorted into confusion but not quite. The Batman had been in the dark about her existence for 11 years, and now here she was, standing in front of him. 

She was short, had longer black hair and sharp green eyes, like her mother. Her nose was arched and small, her chin and jaw pronounced yet soft. Her skin was a dark sandy color, and she was very fit and strong looking. Bruce looked her up and down, feeling an indescribable emotion swell in his chest. This was his daughter. His own blood. This was his child, actually his. Bruce looked to Talia and back to the girl.

"I imagined you taller. Shall we go, father?" She said in an attempt to break the silence. Father and daughter now united walked back to his car and began the drive to the manor.

At the manor, she was quiet and standoffish. When she entered the manor, she had an air of superiority around her. She knew her status. 

"None of my other children are home right now, but you'll meet them later, Dama," Bruce said, really quite unsure of what to say in the first place. He didn't even know she existed until 20 minutes ago. There was so much he wanted to know, but at the same time he was wary. He knew the ways of the League. They did not share the same values. Hopefully, Dama would be open to change.

Dama walked into her room and looked around. There was a four post bed in the left corner of the room, turned so it was up against the far wall. It was decorated with plain black and green striped sheets and covers, with a few pillows. On the other side of the room up against the right most wall, there was a desk. It had a soft looking rolling chair and there were a few books stacked there, but Dama was sure she had already read them. She had read a lot in her time with the League, almost the whole library. Next to the desk on the left was a door that lead to a small closet. It was empty, but her father had promised he would take her shopping for clothing. She assured him there was no need, she had packed clothing and it was not necessary to get more, but he insisted. There was no need for such waste in her mind, but the gesture was acknowledged. Not exactly appreciated, but acknowledged. Dama set her bag down on the bed and began to unpack her belongings. Mostly just clothes and some weapons, but there was a small book in there that she had taken from the library. It was her favorite, a collection Edgar Allan Poe works. Poetry was interesting to Dama, she understood it well and she couldn't write it herself, causing her to envy being able to express ones feelings so freely. 

Oh how she wished she could express her feelings about this situation. She was feeling so many things and showed none of them. She was angry that her mother had left her here, sad because everything she knew was gone for an unknown amount of time. She felt awkward and out of place, not sure if she belonged here. At the same time, she was happy. She was with her father! This is what she had always wanted. Though, she feared not meeting his expectations. She knew the punishment for not making the mark in the League and hoped it wasn't the same here. Not that she would ever let herself under-perform in front of her father. She had to be perfect.

Dick was happy to be home. He had gotten the call from Bruce that he was needed, and was glad for the excuse to come over. He was prepared for a number of dangerous, vigilante situations, but not quit prepared for the child holding a sword to his throat as soon as he walked in. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" The child asked while staring him down. 

"Well I'm Dick, Dick Grayson, it's nice to meet you, and I'm here to see Bruce..." Just then, Bruce walked in confused as to the noise. 

"Dama. Please put the sword down. This is Dick, my eldest son." He said placing his hand over hers and lowering the sword. 

"Tt. Only a fool would let someone walk into their house and not be ready to defend themselves." She said matter-of-factly. Bruce sighed and gave Dick a handshake. 

"Dick, this is Dama. My daughter." Dick looked at him in surprise. It was no secret that Bruce was a playboy, but to have a child? And a child that knows how to wield a sword bigger than her? 

"Your daughter?" 

"Yes, my daughter. Talia brought her." 

"Talia brought her?"

"Do you just repeat everything he says," interrupted Dama. Dick got down on her level and smiled at her. 

"No, but that would be funny, huh? Say, do you wanna hang out? Watch some TV?" Dick proposed, hoping she had a little bit of normal in her. 

"I have no time for foolish things such as television, /Grayson/." She said with half sneer and half disgust. Dama turned sharply on her heel and walked up the stairs into her bedroom. This must be one of her fathers sons. She had heard about him. The "Boy Wonder". How underwhelming. She walked over to her desk and pulled out her book of poems. It was a very worn book, full of markings and drawings. It was clearly well loved.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Dick was questioning Bruce. "You and Talia?" He asked. 

"Yes. It was a long time ago, I hardly remember our time together. She just showed up in Gotham and asked to meet. When I got there, Dama was also there."

"So was she raised by the League? I mean, she obviously has some training if she was comfortable with a sword." 

"I believe so, yes. I haven't asked much about her upbringing." 

"Have you talked to her about anything?" Dick looked at Bruce with a questioning and doubtful look. 

"No, I haven't. I told her that we would go buy some clothes later this week and showed her her room. That was it. And don't give me that look Dick, what am I supposed to do? She was a secret until an hour ago, shes lived eleven years without me. Where do you begin?" Bruce asked, obviously frustrated. This is not what he needed right now. 

"Bruce, shes a kid, do kid things with her! Find out her favorite color or book or whatever. Just talk to her. Are you going to enroll her in school?"

"It would be hard to do that without revealing to the public who she is and her identity, which would raise lots of questions. I don't know. We'll figure it out tomorrow. Stay here tonight, will you? Tim is here, he wouldn't mind seeing you." 

Dick sighed. "Of course I'll stay." He was always good with kids, maybe they could bond.


End file.
